


Morning Routines

by misura



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Living Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 02:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Somehow, the reality of Clark having moved in doesn't hit Bruce until he wanders into the kitchen at seven AM for a cup of coffee.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 174
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Fandom Battle





	Morning Routines

Somehow, the reality of Clark having moved in doesn't hit Bruce until he wanders into the kitchen at seven AM for a cup of coffee. (Alfred's busy and also extremely judgmental of other people's breakfast habits, and Bruce likes to be considerate by not exposing himself to that first thing in the morning).

Bruce's usual routine is a quick in, quick out: Wayne Manor's coffee machine's top of the line, the best money can buy with only minimal tinkering, because Bruce can't help himself.

It's quick, it's efficient, and it doesn't really allow for the possibility of Clark being there, relaxing at the kitchen table with a newspaper and a glass of orange juice, saying, "Good morning," with a smile that does pleasant but also slightly disturbing things to Bruce's chest.

(Alfred would probably tell him he's happy, and that it's not such a bad thing to get used to, but Alfred's not the one actually having to deal with Clark and all these damn feelings.)

"Morning," Bruce says, preferring to reserve judgment on its level of goodness. Admittedly, any day that starts with Clark smiling at him seems off to a good start, but still.

Clark nods as if he fully approves of Bruce's caution. Bruce tells himself Clark is not a mind reader, actually, and also Clark is wearing a terrible shirt that looks like it should be burnt, or at least replaced by a better one.

Happily, before Bruce can figure out a way to convey this fact in a diplomatic manner, Clark says, "There's fresh orange juice, if you want some," which neatly side tracks Bruce's mind from the question of Clark's wardrobe and instead puts it right in the middle of a metaphorical minefield, because, well, does Clark _want_ him to want some?

Is Clark being polite, in which case Bruce should say 'no', thereby possibly getting Clark to smile at him again, or is Clark being, well, Alfred, for lack of a better word and trying to improve the nutritional value of Bruce's breakfast by sneaky and stealthy means, in which case Bruce should work up the kind of fake enthusiasm he doesn't bother working up for Alfred, because Alfred is too wise to his tricks?

"I ... " Bruce wills Clark to give him a clue, a hint, anything. Like, Bruce is willing to play ball here, to make a real effort at making this relationship work, up to and including the orange juice, but it'd be nice if Clark could maybe meet him halfway.

Clark smiles and says, "It's good for you. Better than coffee," which, hallelujah, a clear sign.

"All right," Bruce says, seeing Clark's smile get a little brighter. Bruce immediately starts wondering how bright it can get, and whether or not he really wants to find out, given what its current level of brightness is doing to him already. "Guess fresh orange juice sounds good."

If Clark had been Alfred, that would have been his cue; as it is, Bruce spends a few moments smiling back at Clark with a vague sense of impending doom before he realizes that Clark is probably expecting him to pour his own damn orange juice. Which, for the record, Bruce is 100% capable of doing.

Clark's smile shows a hint of a grin as Bruce turns, freshly poured glass of orange juice in hand and tries to decide what to do next. If he'd gotten coffee, he'd go back to the office, get some work done.

In fact, if Clark hadn't been here, Bruce would be there already, feeling happy and productive and perfectly content with the state of his social life and the lack of any people other than Alfred around.

"These chairs are very comfortable," Clark says pointedly.

Bruce puts on a bit of a scowl as he sits down, to show Clark Bruce is on to him and will only be putting up with so much blatant manipulation.

Clark's smile suggests Clark knows as well as Bruce does that this is only true in the sense that the amount of manipulation Bruce is willing to put up with cannot actually be mathematically expressed.

Of course, it's also possible Clark is simply a friendly person who likes smiling at people.

"Glad you like my chairs," Bruce says, feeling like he should be much better at this kind of small talk, except that usually, when Bruce is making small talk, he's all dressed up and surrounded by people about whose feelings and/or opinions he doesn't actually care.

"Picked them yourself?" More than a hint of a grin this time.

Bruce shrugs. "I paid for them, anyway." As he'd be happy to pay for anything Clark might need or want or merely allow Bruce to gift him. "What's with the shirt?"

Clark's smile dims. Not by a lot, but enough for Bruce to sense the room's temperature drop a couple of degrees, never mind that human beings aren't that sensitive. "It's comfortable and I like it."

Bruce imagines the terrible things that might happen if he were to reply, _'I don't'_. It's not even true, anyway; it's not a matter of like and dislike. It's merely a matter of Clark having access to better quality shirts, shirts Bruce could pay for and even pick out, if Clark would let him.

Bruce is here drinking orange juice, after all, and relationships are supposed to be give and take, right?

"Okay," Bruce says, because he suspects Clark isn't going to consider Bruce drinking orange juice a big enough concession to open a discussion on Clark's shirts. "Looks good on you," he adds, which is a lie but also not, because pretty much anything looks good on Clark.

Clark's smile gets a little brighter again.

Bruce allows himself to relax: he's not so bad at this after all. He can do this. He's great at this. Alfred would be astonished and proud if he could see Bruce right n-

"Newspaper?" Clark offers, holding it out.

On his tablet, Bruce has got a curated overview waiting for him including any and all relevant local, national and global news, collected from a dozen public news sources and a couple not so public ones. Alfred compiles it for him daily, and Bruce likes it that way. It's efficient. It's practical.

It's not Clark, suggesting they spend a bit more time together before starting their work days.

Bruce accepts the newspaper. "You or Lois wrote up anything good?"

It's never not going to be a little bit weird Clark holds down a day job as a reporter. Admittedly, it makes for a good cover, and an excuse to go to all sorts of places (anything for a scoop).

"I don't like to brag," Clark says. "Judge for yourself."

Bruce wishes this didn't feel so much like Clark warning him there's going to be a test later, meaning Bruce had better ask Alfred to read the damn article and formulate a thoughtful, well-reasoned opinion that will give Bruce something to talk about all the way through dinner.

"Fair enough," he says, trying to sound like he means it. He does mean it, more or less. Clark's allowed to be modest, and Bruce did ask, and so if Bruce now feels burdened with additional responsibilities he didn't want, he has nobody to blame for it but himself.

Clark sighs. "Bruce. Stop trying so hard. Enjoy your orange juice. Relax. Have some fun."

"You sound like Alfred," Bruce says, not really thinking about whether or not that's a complaint or a compliment. Maybe it's both. Most of the time, Bruce is very happy Alfred's there.

"Hm." Clark's smile is back again, bright as ever. "I told him I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed. He suggested I might want to start with orange juice in the kitchen instead."

Bruce tries to imagine it. Worse things have happened to him than breakfast in bed.

"Apparently, you tend to just grab a cup of coffee on the go," Clark goes on, still smiling. "Which I'm sure I don't need to tell you is hardly a proper way to start the day."

"Right," Bruce says, "so the deal is - what? Six glasses of orange juice and the next morning, I get you waking me up with a tray of ... stuff?" There's going to be a lot of stuff, Bruce knows. Alfred is devious that way, and he's already proven willing to use Clark for his schemes.

"Something like that," Clark says. "We agreed it would be best to keep the exact details a surprise."

"Great. I love surprises." Bruce doesn't bother trying to sound sincere. His acting talents only go so far.

"Trust me," Clark assures him, "you'll love this one."


End file.
